The Come Back
by NoirAngelique
Summary: Pelle comes back to Detroit after many, many years. How will this play out?
1. Chapter 1

1

The Come Back

Chapter One

Pelle's whole body shivered as she stood out in the snow waiting for her ride to come. She should have known that the snow would delay the man for more than ten minutes; her mother was going to be, or already was, furious. Contrary to her prior belief, the light emitted by the neon diner lights brought no warmth to the winter night. However, the diner windows were fogged up from the contrast of temperatures outside and inside. Her sensitive skin began to itch with the chill of the night air; Detroit really _was _different from New Orleans. And, as she thought this, memories of her hometown came back to her strong enough to seem almost tangible.

The colorful shops and lounges, the festivals and houses, all right there in front of her and they all slowly faded right in front of her eyes, blotted out by the headlights of a car. The car stopped and parked in front of the diner and four men emerged from it. She got a nice look at them as they ventured past her and into the diner. Two white, two black, on looked tiny and frail, another very handsome, the third look like a family man, and the last seemed a little grim and rugged. She glanced at them as they trudged past her and through the snow. The tiny bell on the diner door rang as the entered, and it's friendly ringing seemed to beckon her inside. She took another look down either side of the street before turning and pacing, shivering, into the warmth of the diner.

When the glass door closed behind her, it was like she had stepped into another world. It was warm compared to the snow, there was low music instead of wind, and there were people sitting around, talking in lowered voices. She took a seat in a booth in the middle of the row, not to close to the door, but not too far, she was sure the ride would be here soon. A blonde, petite waitress bounced over to her table and asked her for her order. "Um," Pelle hesitated, "I...It's okay, I won't be here for long. I was just coming in to get out of the cold." The waitress nodded and turned to walk away, when a voice floated over from the next table.

"You'll warm up faster if you drink something hot," it was a shorter, fatter waitress who was taking the four mens' orders and talking to Pelle at once, she was a good multi-tasker. Pelle looked at the woman, opening and closing her mouth a few times as if to say something but she couldn't think of any objections. She sat her tot bag up onto the table and dug through it before retrieving her coin purse. She picked through it's contents and fished out a five dollar bill, handing it to the blonde waitress with a polite smile.

"I suppose I'll have a cup of hot chocolate," she said, in her small voice, "If it's not too much trouble." The blonde took the bill and, returning the smile, she turned on her heel and ventured back behind the counter. Pelle closed her coin purse and dropped it back into her tot bag. She glanced up and saw the waitress and the four men staring intently at her and withdrew her eyes in slight horror. What could they have been looking at? Had she done something wrong? She glanced back up and met their stares, "Hello."

"Not from around here, are you," the waitress said, her voice was smug, but remained friendly. Before Pelle could answer, she went back to taking the mens' orders. The blonde waitress returned, enthusiastically, with Pelle's hot chocolate and her change. Pelle accepted the hot drink with an appreciative nod and shook her head when the waitress attempted to give her her change, accepting only her receipt in return. "Honey," came the voice again, "You gonna answer me or not?"

"Oh," she said softly, "I'm sorry. Um, I lived her when I was little, but I moved to New Orleans ans I've been there most of my life. So, no, I suppose I don't count as being from around here." She lowered her eyes and sipped the hot chocolate and remained this way until the cup was 1/4 full and the contents of it had grown cooler. Pelle's phone rang out loudly against the soft noise of the diner and it vibrated against the table from the bottom of her bag. She reached for it as quick as she could and, looking at the illuminated screen, saw that it was her mother. "Hello," she said, answering the call.

The voice on the other end was muffled by the noise in the background, but she could make out that it was her mother. Forgetting that her daughter was coming, she'd decided to take a weekend trip to Las Vegas, which might last longer than a weekend "depending on how I feel". "Yeah, mom it's fine," she spoke into the phone, exhausted, "I'm a grown up now, I can handle myself. You just have a nice time and be safe, will you?" As usual, her mother hung up without saying goodbye, and, as usual, it bother Pelle. She clutched the phone in her hand and let out a long, silent sigh. 'How am I supposed to get home now," she thought.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she spoke to the shorter waitress who looked up at her with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, "What number do I dial to call a cab?" The waitress frowned and shook her head, she explained to Pelle that the cabs had stopped running and, even if they hadn't, it was a dangerous way to get home around these parts. "Well," she said, worried, "Do you know where I can find this address?" Pelle slid out of the booth and sauntered over to the counter, handing the small scripted piece of paper to the waitress.

"That's not too far from here," she said, "Just four block south of here." Pelle nodded her thanks, went back and grabbed her bag and headed out the door and into the snow. She turned back to thank the waitress before the door closed and then began her snowy hike. The snow wasn't still falling which made it easier to see the passing addresses. Sadly, her shoes were thin and not made for walking in the snowl; they soon became soaked and her feet became very cold. "Hey," she heard a voice from behind her in between whistles of wind. She turned back in answer and saw one of the men from the diner, the tiny one.

"Sorry," he said as he approached, "It's dangerous in this neighborhood and I would like to see that you make it home safely." He had already closed the gap between them and was now on the side of her. She walked along with him beside her for quite some time in silence before it became too much for him to bear. "Got any sisters or brothers?"

"Three brothers and two sisters, that I know of," she replied, "Though, it's been awhile since I've seen them." Proceeded to ask her more questions about herself, if not to inform himself, to simply pass the walking time. They were both effective methods, because they became verbally acquainted and the trip seemed to fly right by. "This is your place," he asked as she turned and traveled up the front staircase, "Well, what do y'know. It looks like were are next door neighbors."

Pelle turn to look over her shoulder at him and smiled. "I get the stranger feeling you already knew that," she said. He laughed lightly and stepped back, waving at her. He stopped and gave her a questioning look. "Pelle," she said, already knowing what he was confused about, "And you are?"

"Jack Mercer," he replied, "Goodnight then, Pelle. If you need anything, we're right next door." For some reason, Pelle wasn't sure that was a good thing. But, as she turned to climbed her front steps and unlock and open her door, she couldn't help but feel a little more secure. She glanced back only to see Jack disappear into the house next door, before closing the door behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

1The Come Back

Chapter Two

Pelle slowly opened her eyes and turned over to face the large window in her room. The dim light of the sunrise filtered in through her curtains and blinds, and streamed across her face, warming her skin with it's touch. She said a silent prayer of thanks and protection before slowly rising into a sitting position in bed. Her soft, black and white blankets fell down the front of her and piled into her lap. She raised a dainty, brown hand and pushed her dark curl away fro her face. Pushing the blankets aside, she stepped out of bed and cringed a bit at the sensation of the floor chilling her feet.

She stood with much effort, pressing against the heaviness of lingering sleep. There was the sound of tiny footsteps as she walked that were not her own, but before she could take caution to them, her mother's tea-cup terrier padded into her bedroom and trailed her as she walked into the kitchen and searched the pantries for something to eat. She found a bag of hot fries and poured herself a cup of orange juice before retreating to the living room, lounging on the couch and flipping through channels. Pelle settled on a bunch of early morning cartoons and let herself be satisfied. She bent down to help the tiny dog up onto the couch next to her where he curled up next to her.

She chowed down the junk food with patience and ease before traveling into her bathroom and taking a extensive, hot shower. As she carefully stepped out of the shower and began to dry her radiant skin off, she overheard a slight commotion coming from the house next door, where Jack had retired for the night. Pelle dried her hair, not bothering to brush it because that only caused it to frizz out. Over her black bra and panties set, she pulled on a purple sweater dress and a pair of warm, white leggings before slipping her feet into her black snow boots. She gathered up the dog and his leash and took him out for a walk.

As the door closed behind her and she eased down the stairs with the dog in her arms, she couldn't help but glance over at Jack's house. There were people standing around talking and drinking or eating. She smiled as she passed and some of the children that were playing in the snow returned her smile, flashing their missing baby-teeth. She walked on for a few blocks until the dog found someplace comfortable and did his business with ease. He gleefully trotted in front of her, all the way back to the house. As they passed by Jack's house again, two young girls who were n ot in the yard when she left, squealed and cooed at the tiny dog. After their persistant pleading, Pelle agreed to let them play with him.

"Hi," came the low, comforting voice of a woman. Pelle looked up and met the woman's deep brown eyes and knew right away that she was a mother. There was always just something about mothers that Pelle always seemed to notice. She smiled at the woman and returned the greeting. "Why don't you come on inside? Girls, take care of that doggie." Pelle hesitated for a moment, but the woman proceeded into the house, not giving her a chance to object. Their house was very different on the inside, than Pelle's. You could tell that a woman lived there because it was so well adjusted and organized. The decorations were quite nice too, with the warm colored walls and the matching furniture, it was very homey.

As Pelle entered the house, the room full of people turned to acknowledge her presence. They all stared at her in some different way, conveying some different emotion. Her eyes landed on the grim, rugged brother, who seemed to be staring around momentarily, wondering what everyone was looking at. When his half-opened eyes landed on her, she averted hers momentarily before looking back to the woman. "Pelle," came a vaguely familiar voice, "How are you this morning. Good to see you."

She turned to see Jack, looking much more vibrant and rested than he had in the pale shadow of the night. "Hello, Jack," she replied with a voice as light as the last traces of snow on the ground in the beginning of Spring. He gave her a quick friendly hug and led her around to meet the others. The hum of conversation gradually returned to the rom, and her embarrassment faded as it did so. Unfortunately, the feeling return like the soft morning waves of the ocean, when he brought her around to meet his brothers. "Angel, Jeremiah, and Bobby. This is Pelle, from the diner last night."

One of the women came and grabbed her by the arm, explaining to the men that Pelle belonged with the other women. The woman lightly dragged Pelle into the warmth of the kitchen and the conversation therein. The other women turned to her wielding a variety of expressions, but she took personal only the positive ones. In the mean time, Jack sat on the couch in the living room with his brothers and other relatives. "Aye yo, Jack," Bobby teased, "You finally caught one, huh?" Jack laughed at Bobby's comment.

"Is that all you got, big bro," he asked, jokingly, "That ain't mine, man. Besides, after the way you were lookin at her I wouldn't be able to do nothin wit it." All of the other guys laughed and agreed with Jack while Bobby shushed them. Pelle began to feel a little uneasy and decided to excuse herself and go home. She bid the other women good bye and headed back towards the front door. "Leavin," Jack asked from the living room as he stood and jogged across the room to meet her. She smiled lightly at him as he approached and nodded. He gave her another light hug and walked her out the door and to the bottom of their front walk.

"Hey," a voice called from up at the front door of their house. Pelle and Jack both turned to see the source and found Bobby pacing down towards them. Jack to a step or two back from Pelle but she didn't notice, being preoccupied with running her eyes over the rough lines of his face, a habit possessed by most growing artists. He stepped around to stand a very short distance in front of her and let out a short sigh. "It was nice meetin' you, uh..............Pelle, is it?" She nodded, forcing her lips together so that her mouth would not hang open in amazement. She had to admit, she was surprised, he hadn't seemed to have enjoyed the idea of her being there very much. 'Jack probably put him up to this,' she thought, 'Nice gesture.' "Yeah, Pelle. Don't hesitate coming back."

She nodded and flashed and small, short lived smile at him before turning and leaving the boundaries of their front yard. The little dog ran off behind her, leaving the little girls to whine and groan in displeasure. She picked him up and trekked back up the long staircase and into her house which was pleasantly quiet in comparison. Jack and Booby rounded up the children and brought them back inside to play in the living room, quietly. As they stepped back into the heated house behind the stampede of children, the other brothers stood just inside the door waiting for them with a raised eyebrow. Jack closed the door and stepped around to join in the staring at Bobby, who squirmed uneasily and shrugged his shoulders, looking puzzled. "Nice meeting you," Jack repeated in a questioning manner, "Don't hesitate coming back?"

The other brothers looked from Bobby to Jack, and back again, smiles growing on their faces and transforming into laughter. Jeremiah reached around and patted Bobby on the back, shaking his head teasingly. Bobby shook Jeremiah's hand away, "Man, shut up. I was just bein' hospitable, damn."


	3. Chapter 3

1The Come Back

Chapter Three

Pelle set the little brown and black doggie on the floor and detached his leash and collar, allowing him to run straight into the kitchen where he let out a series of high pitched barks. She hung the long, red leash near the door so it would be easier to find next time, and she trudged into the kitchen to determine the cause of his barking, kicking off her boot along the way. As she traveled through the short hallway she got a good look into the living room and dining room. The house was filthy, littered with trash, papers, clothes and dust. "I'll have to clean this place up sometime today," she said, "And maybe I'll redecorate too." She walked into the kitchen and saw the small dog sitting next to his empty food and water dishes, waiting impatiently.

Pelle smiled and shook her head at the dogs inquisition as she switched over to the pantry in search of his food. There was a half full bag of dog food on the closet floor, but it had grown dusty and when she went to move it a roach ran out over the top of the bag. She cringed and immediately drug it over towards the back door, opening the door, and lugged it out across her snow-drenched backyard. She tried to ignore the stares from the people next door as they stood around drinking warm beverages and talking. She struggled to lift the bag of dog food into the large garbage bin but succeeded after she got her coordination. The walk back up to the house was chilly, because she had no shoes, and made awkward by the stares from the party guest. She shuffled back into her house as quick as she could.

The dog was still sitting next to his dishes, watching her intently as she closed the back door and walked over to retrieve the other bag of dog food. She grabbed a knife from the wooden knife-holder that stood in one of the back corners of the black, marble counters. Pelle sliced the bag open, grabbed a clean food dish from the overhead cabinet, and filled it up before sitting it down next to the dog and placing the food bowl, which was now filthy, in the kitchen sink. He immediately began to lap the food out of the bowl, like he hadn't eaten in a few days. While the dog ate, Pelle went around and gathered the dishes from all around the house: the bathroom, the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, and her mother's bedroom. They made a nice two sinks' worth of dirty dishes, but she intended to wash them all.

Pelle started the hot water running in one sink at a time and drizzled dish detergent over the dishes, like chocolate syrup on ice cream. While the water ran, she sprayed the counters, stove, and dish holder down with bleach and wiped them clean. It automatically smelled better in the kitchen, and she reveled in it as she labored to wash the dishes. Conveniently, the dog didn't begin whining for water until she had placed the last cleaned dish into the dish holder. She took his freshly used food bowl, rinsed it, filled it with water and gave it to him. Next she went in search of the broom, dust pan, mop and bucket. She went on, switching back and forth between the dog and cleaning for hours until, finally, she had cleaned the whole house, including the bathrooms and bedrooms.

She left the bags of trash that she'd collected by the back door and went to take another shower. This time, she let the shower linger on for awhile, standing under the constant spray of relaxing, warm water. It ran over her skin, driving away the frost of the snow and the dirt of a job well done. She took her pick of a soap that she thought smelled like an exotic fruit garden and used it twice. Her mother didn't have any shampoo, or food, in the house which made her happy that she'd brought her own shampoo and grocery money had been left for her, under a stack of papers on the mantle, which she'd dusted. This is the same money that, after showering and getting dressed, she grabbed and walked out of the door, leaving behind the sleeping dog.

For a while, she simply stood on the porch in front of her house and tried to recall any grocery stores she may have passed. "Oh," she sighed frustrated, "Wish I'd paid more attention to that when I was in the cab." She pulled her hat down over her damp hair and started off down the stairs, thinking that she'd just wonder around in search of one. She locked the front gate behind her and walked on. About a block away from the house she heard the sound of tires rolling over snow and a heavy engine churning approach her. She turned and looked over her left shoulder and into the street to see a car roll up to her and the window lowered slowly. New Orleans hadn't exactly been the safest place on earth and, out of learned precaution, she tensed and prepared to protect herself.

"Hey," it was Jack and his brothers, "Where ya headed?" She visibly relaxed and let out a sigh of relief, allowing a small smile to spread across her face. Pelle explained to them how her mother had neglected to stock up on groceries before she had left town. She went on to say how she wasn't sure where she was headed direction wise, but she was in search of and grocery store. "Nearest grocery store is about three miles from her," he replied. Pelle looked surprised at the large distance gap between the two places. "Yeah," he said, "The neighborhood's dangerous sometimes and they wanted to keep their businesses as safe as possible." She nodded in disappointment and turned to go back home. A few steps is all she had taken when she heard a car door open.

"Hey," came another voice, "If you want, we could give you a ride." She turned and saw Bobby standing on the other side of the car. Small sound of laughter came from inside of the car and Bobby jerked a bit, as if he had made some violent gesture, with his unseen hand, into the car. Once again, Pelle tried not to show the surprise that she felt at his kind offer. Bobby crossed his arms over each other on top of the car and raised an eyebrow at her.

"I don't know," she said, "I don't really know you guys. And besides, I don't want to make you go out of your way." He smiled a smile that was slightly one-sided and turned to look out over the snow covered street as if he felt like a car was coming. She waved and turned to walk home again. This time she got about half as far as she had before, before he called after her again. She looked over her shoulder at him instead of turning all the way around again. He had stepped closer and was still walking around the back of the car and towards her.

"You can trust us," he said, looking sincere, "We won't try any funny business. We were raised better than that. Heck, I'll even drive you home again and help bring the bags in if Jack doesn't beat me to it." He had come within feet of her and she fought not to go off and become distracted by the details of his face again. She looked him in the eyes, only allowing her eyes to wander to his mouth for a moment when he flashed a smile that beamed with trustworthiness. Pelle still felt very unsure but, then again, she knew how to defend herself. And so, she nodded and slowly turned to walk back towards their car. He trailed a pace or two behind her, towering at least half a foot over her in height. Jack got out of the car, pushed the seat forward and scrunched into the back seat with the other two, pulling the seat back into it's rightful position so that she could sit in the front.

"Thank you," she said as polite as she could. She off of the curb and into the car, with little effort, before reaching out to close the door only to have it closed for her. She looked back and the other guys, scrunched together in the back, and gave them an apologetic look. They smiled wide at her as Bobby got into the car on the driver's side. She pulled on her seat belt and tightened it before reaching into the pocket of her thick, sweater-like coat and grabbing hold of her money and her keys to assure herself that she had them. She nodded to herself and then looked over at Bobby, who nodded and put the car into drive before taking off.

The first few minutes of the drive were silent, mainly because they all felt awkward. Pelle found herself seemingly entranced by the falling snow and the passing houses. Glancing over every now and again, Bobby decided to break the silence first. "So," he stalled, "How do you like Detroit so far?" Pelle looked over at him and raised her eyebrows before informing him of how relatively peaceful it had been so far. "You changed clothes," he said, "You had on different clothes earlier." She nodded a let out a small cough into her hand.

"Yeah, I cleaned up the house, so I changed clothes too," she said, "The house was pretty filthy and the poor dog was starving. I had a nice layer of dust on my other clothes and my skin, so I showered and got into clean clothes." The guys all nodded and looked around as the silence returned. Jack reached up and turned on the radio so that it wouldn't seem so quiet. It was pretty successful, raising the morale as the guys sang along with some songs on the radio. The car ride seemed to go by a lot quicker after that. Before she realized it, they were pulling into the parking lot of a large supermarket Bobby parked towards the middle of the parking lot row that they were in, not complaining about parking closer to the entrance or the distance. He turned off the car and turned to look at her.

"Want us to come in with you," Jack asked from the backseat. Pelle shook her head and unbuckled her seat belt. This time, her door was opened before she could even reach for it, and she gratefully stepped out of the car. Bobby reached past her as she moved out of the way and pushed the seat forward before moving back and allowing the others to get out of the car. She looked up at him questioningly and only to have him pull out a crumble piece of paper which, after being straightened out, was revealed as a shopping list. She nodded as the last of the men climbed out of they car and pushed the seat back. They began to walk towards the store leaving Bobby only a few paces behind them after shutting the door.

A pale, gray haired woman stood at the entrance to the store and welcomed them with a radiant smile. She was one of those women who looked like a really nice grandmother in Pelle's opinion. She walked past woman returning the smile and continued into the store and over to the cart rack were she pulled out a cart and pushed it into the front aisle and waited for the guys to catch up. They pushed their carts down the first aisle that they came to and went from there, weaving in between rows of stocked shelves and picked up anything that they could think to get. Pelle got mostly fresh fruit and vegetables, she also stopped and picked up a few pounds of fish, chicken and other meat, some yogurt, cereal, milk, tea, coffee, chips, juice, and some other things that included a few cartons of ice cream. She struggled to push her cart around after a certain point, but managed to gain the strength to do it and counted it as exercise.

"Wow," Jack said, as he pushed their cart up next to hers, "You cook a lot, huh?" She shook her head and gave a playful shrug. Bobby stepped around Jack and took hold of Pelle's cart, pushing it forward before she could protest. She looked over at the other three who simply smiled and shrugged. They all headed for the check out while Pelle stopped by the cosmetics aisle and picked up some shampoo and soap. She met them there and got the last few things onto the item belt just in time.

"That'll be $534.67," the young cashier said to her. One of the guys let out a whistle and she reached into her pocket and retrieved the wad of money. Pelle handed the woman ten fifty dollar bills and two twenty dollar bills. She stuffed the left over money back into her pocket accepted her receipt and change from the cashier. Pelle placed all fifteen of her bags into the cart and pushed it out of the way as quick as she could. The guys didn't have much so they followed after her soon with only five bags and, again, Bobby took her cart and pushed it all the way out to the car. They all packed the bags into the trunk of the car and she took the first empty cart and pushed it back to the cart holder before anyone could protest it. On her way back to the car, she passed by Angel pushing the other cart. She and Bobby stood next to the car door and waited for him to get back in and pull the seat back before she could get in.

This time she tried to reach for the door faster but he lightly pushed her hand back and closed the door before walking around to get in on the other side. The ride home was not much different, with the exception of everyone being tired. When they pulled up to the houses and he stopped the car, Bobby turned to Pelle. "Why don't you go ahead and unlock the door," he suggested, "We'll bring the stuff in." She opened her own door this time and as she stepped out of the car she realized she'd forgotten to put her seat belt on. Leaving the door open for them to get out, she opened her front gate and climbed up the long staircase, not steep, just long. As she unlocked and opened the door, she found her mother laying on the couch with the dog laying next to her.

She pulled the small throw cover over her mom and stood in wait for the guys to come up with the bags. Holding three or four each, they hauled the bags into the house, through the short hallway and into the kitchen. The other guys left out and she walked to the door behind them. Jack gave her a quick wave and a smile before closing the door. She turned to go back to the kitchen and was startled to see Bobby there, putting away food. "Um," she said, and he looked over at her, "You don't have to actually do this. You've already helped so much today." He shook his head went back to putting the food away.

"I said I would do it," he replied, "And besides, I don't mind." She went to help put the things away and went to peek in on her mother occasionally. As they put the food away, she realized how badly she wanted to remodel the house. Pelle imagined what colors she would do for each room and in the midst of doing so managed to pack the shampoo into the freezer. Realizing her mistake, she put it in it's rightful place, finishing the grocery stocking. "Finished," he said, putting away the bags for reuse.

"Yep," Pelle said, feeling a little bit weird. Bobby leaned against the counter and looked around, nodding approvingly at what he saw. She leaned against the counter and watched him finding it momentarily difficult not to. Again, when his eyes landed on her she averted her gaze. "So," she stalled, "Can I get you anything?" He shook his head and pushed off of the counter. His heavy boots thumped against the hardwood floors as he walked towards the front door. She followed him to close the door behind him. He opened the door and just before he stepped out onto the porch her turned back to look at her, this time there was eye contact and she decided not to look away.

Bobby turned and left quickly, not turning back to say goodbye. Pelle watched him jog down the snowy steps in the blue-orange light of the dusk. The light seemed to get warmer as she stood there and, as he reached the front gate of her house, she closed the door and placed her hand on her chest where her heart was beating like she had been holding her breath. Had she? She turned and went to watch television next to her sleeping mom. As Bobby closed the front gate behind him, he glanced up at the front door of her house and rubbed his own chest where his heart beat like he'd been holding his breath...Had he? He shook it off with a mug look, and walked home, chirping the alarm onto his car and closing the passenger side door.


	4. Chapter 4

1The Come Back

Chapter Four

"Pelle," the evanescent voice of her mother penetrated her dreams. Pelle frowned her face and turned as if to shield her ears from the disturbance. Her mother reached down taking a hold of her arm, and constantly shook her. Pelle peered through her mostly closed eyelids and up at her mother. "Wake up," she said, "I gotta go. Jim invited me to go to Italy with him." She smiled and trotted over to an oval mirror and admired a diamond necklace that rested around her neck. "I think he might be the one. We're on our way to marriage, I tell ya." She turned back to look at Pelle and make sure she was awake. "Anyways, my flight leaves in an hour and my ride to the airport is waiting outside."

Pelle sat up and rubbed her arms which were freezing. Her mom scurried happily out the front door, dragging a few bags behind her. Pelle went to the door and stepped out onto the porch, squinting her eyes against the bright snow and shaking her head at her mom. She turned back before disappearing into the limo that Jim had sent for her and yelled, "Take carry of ruffles for me." And with that she was gone, replaced by a silence only filled with the sound of the limo's engine rearing as it drove off down the street. Pelle shook her head again, this time letting out a sigh that contrasted the chill air that had settled on her lips. She turned and went back into the house, closing the door behind her.

She headed straight for the kitchen and fetched one of the cartons of ice cream and a spoon. These, and ruffles, were her companions on the couch for the next few hours. She sat around watching old-time movies for awhile, too frustrated to do otherwise. It was so boring now, she had nothing to do. Finally, she sat the half eaten carton of ice cream off to the side and headed off to the bathroom to take a shower. It didn't last for long this time, she wasn't in the mood to stand up for a long time right then. She threw on a white, zip up shirt, black and gray skinny jeans, and a pair of her mom's snow boots that matched the shirt.

As she went to step out into the hallway, she heard a faint popping sound that grew louder and louder as she listened. It took her a second to recognize it as gunfire and, when she did, she stepped back into her room and got down on the floor. Ruffles came running into her bedroom and stood next to her, barking with all of his miniature might. Pelle laid with her body pressed against the hardwood floor and covered her head with her arms. She could hear things breaking in the living room and the hallway outside of her room. Then suddenly, the shooting stopped, and was replaced by the sound of faint yelling, car doors, and tires against the surfacing pavement of the street.

Pelle stayed where she was, too terrified to move, still grasping the reality of what had just happened. The world around her went white silent and everything seemed to be moving slowly for a few moments. She pushed herself up from the position she'd curled into on the floor and glanced over to Ruffles. His tiny mouth was flapping open and closed as he looked at her with strange eyes. The sound of him barking faded into reality and with it, the rest of the world seemed to return to normal. She slowly stood up and stooped back down to pick Ruffles up, "You okay, boy?" He whined a bit and let out a strange bark of assurance. With him in her arms, she walked out into the hallway, peeking around the doorway first, just to make sure.

She could see from just outside of her door that the front room and most of the hallway had been completely messed up. As she passed by the other three doors in the hallway, she saw that they all had multiple bullet holes in them, along with the walls. And as she stepped into the living room, her jaw dropped. The chairs were ripped open and stuffing was hanging out of them. There was glass on the floor from the picture frames and her mom's antiques. The television was still on but the picture was warped by two holes that were in the screen. She heard someone coming up onto the porch and still managed to be startled by the four loud knocks that sounded from her perforated front door.

"Anyone home," it was a woman's voice. The voice sounded familiar, but Pelle, out of fear, couldn't bring herself to answer the door, at least not without protection. She ran back into the kitchen and grabbed the longest, sharpest knife she could find before returning to answer the door.

"Who is it," she asked, standing back away from the door. The silence that followed her question seemed too last forever. Pelle's breath quickened and she began to panic. What did they want? Who were they? She heard a few more voices outside of the house and the sound of more people walking up onto the porch. Her heart felt like it was going to jump out of her chest and make a run for it, but it stayed loyal and didn't ditch her. The muffled sound of a police speaker came through the door.

"Is anyone home," followed three light knocks on the door. Pelle relaxed and stumbled over to the door, twisting the knob, which fell off into her hand as the door eased open. A hand slid in and lightly pushed the door open. Pelle stepped back again, and the man who stepped through the door first was more concerned with the room than he was with her, partially because he didn't notice her there at first. "Is everyone okay in here," he called out.

"Yes," she spoke, causing the man to snap his head around in surprise, "It's just me and the dog. But we're fine, I think." She motioned over to Ruffles who looked at the police with caution, as if he didn't tower about six feet over the dog. The man told her that he would need her to step outside so that he could take a report from her and have her check by a paramedic. "Was anyone hurt," she asked, still a little shaken as she followed the man outside and into the cold morning air.

"No," he replied, "Miraculously." She stopped a short ways down the staircase and looked back up at her house. The front of it had been bombarded with bullets and rid of windows. She let out a sigh that nearly brought tears with it, and shook her head. Her mom had worked hard to get that house and now it was destroyed, along with most of her sentimental things. Pelle put her hands up over her face and fought back the urge to cry. How would she possibly fix this?

"Pelle," she looked over and saw Jack's concerned face, "What happened?" He jumped up over the fence that separated their yards. She shook her head and stuttered over words for a moment before she regained her composure. She told him everything that had happened and how badly damaged her mom's house was. "Thank God you're alright," he said, "You can figure that out later on, but for now, you need to let that shock wear off, okay?" She nodded at him, clearly comprehending someone's words for the first time since this morning when her mom left.

A paramedic came up the staircase towards them and gave Pelle a quick look over. She told the older woman everything that she'd done while the shooting took place. The woman shined a light in Pelle's eye and raised an eyebrow. "Do you know what day it is," the woman asked, and Pelle took a second to think about it, "I think you should take a visit to the hospital, just to make sure." Pelle looked over at Jack and back to the woman before nodding her head. She trudged down towards the ambulance and waved back at Jack before stepping inside.

She'd never been in an ambulance before and, when they closed the doors on the back, she felt an eerie feeling, shut in by herself. She couldn't help but wonder how many people had died or been born in there. She recognized some of the equipment hanging around from her medical classes. The woman peered back through the window every now and again, and Pelle would look up at her and smile.

Jack had watched the ambulance roll down the street with genuine concern. He felt like he should have gone with her, but had decided not to. The small dog tromped down the staircase and looked up at Jack, who bent down and scooped the dog up. He ventured out of her yard and over into his house. As he walked inside and shut the door against the cold air, he half-spotted Bobby stumbling down the stairs, still sleepy. "Hey, you little fairy," he mumbled, "Got yourself a new lap pet? What is that?"

Ruffles barked at Bobby unfamiliarly, and looked back and forth between Bobby and Jack. "It's Pelle's," Jack replied with a participant smile, "I'm keeping an eye on him while she's out." Jack placed the dog on the floor and carefully stepped over him and into the living room. Angel came running down the stairs with a baffled look on his face and minimal clothes on his body.

"There are bullet holes in my window," he said in a raised voice, "What's going on?" He frowned at the little dog on the floor, which tilted his head at Angel. Lavita eased down the stairs behind him, dressed in pajamas and fuzzy boots. She stood, midway down the staircase, just in eye's view, and placed her hand on her hip. Angel looked back at Booby and Jack and raised an eyebrow to show that he was waiting for an answer. Bobby looked at Jack as well and shifted his feet around on the hardwood floor.

"Oh," he said, "Yeah, somebody came by shooting about thirty minutes ago. Got Pelle's house pretty bad, must've gotten ours too." Bobby's eyes widened at the mention of Pelle, and he darted back up the stairs, returning moments later, looking completely disheveled as he attempted to rush and get dressed. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair looked tossed and his pants weren't zipped yet. He put his long jacket on over his clothes, half stepped into his shoes and tucked the shoe strings in before rushing out side. He didn't bother going the long way; instead he simply climbed over the fence that separated the two yards.

He looked at the house in horror as Jack jogged out of their house next door looking astonished at his brother's haste. "Bobby," he called, "She's not there man. They took her to the hospital." Bobby stared in silence for a few more moments, long enough to make Jack think that he hadn't heard what he said. But just as he prepared to repeat himself, Bobby turned and rushed down the long staircase, out of the opened gate, and over to his car.

"Where are my keys," he spoke low, to himself, as he fiddled for the keys in his jacket pockets, "Which hospital, Jack?" With an expression like he'd just thought of a bright idea or found the hidden meaning of something, he pulled his car keys out of his pants pocket and paced over to the driver's side door. Jack walked out to the car and opened the passenger side door as Bobby started the low rumbling engine. Angel and Lavita emerged from the house; both were fully clothed now, and secured the house behind them before rushing out to the car and piling into the back seat. Jack pushed his seat back and slid into the car, closing the door with a slam that seemed to echo for a bit.

"They took her to Southwest," Jack informed his eldest brother. Bobby nodded and kept driving with an intent look on his face. "Bobby, she was fine when she left, she'll be fine when she gets back. We should go home." Bobby shook he head and slowed the car down, gradually bringing it to a stop. There was a long silence that filled the car and buzzed in their ears, over the sound of the engine. He sat there, with his hands on the stirring wheel, staring straight.

"What the hell is wrong with me," he sighed and turned the car around in a speedy u-turn. He shook his head and, on the way home, looked as if he wanted to turn around again. He turned a few corners and took a detour so that he could drive straight up in front of the house. When they arrived, he turned the car off and leaned back in his seat. "Go in the house, man." The other silently got out of the car, not daring to ask any more questions, leaving him alone in his own requiem.


	5. Chapter 5

The Come Back

Chapter Five

It had gotten dark outside when Pelle's cab drove up in front of her home. The driver had agreed to wait for her to come back as she got out of the car. She stopped, staring up at the dark, seemingly abandoned house. It had been almost two days since she had been there and the sight of it scared her again. She made a detour and walked over to the guys' house. The door opened as she made her way up the staircase and Bobby stood in the doorway, glaring down at her. She looked him in the eye for a brief moment before, seeing the hard look, she looked away. She continued up the staircase and up to their doorway. "Is Jack here," she asked, weakly. She had been awake for almost forty hours because they just couldn't help but run tests on her brain.

Bobby looked over his shoulder and called for Jack before turning back to the girl with a friendlier look that only lasted for a second. "You okay," he asked, regretting it as soon as he did. She simply nodded her head as Jack came walking up behind him and flicked on the light on their porch. He smiled at her and expressed that he was glad to see that she was back. She told him that she needed some help packing her bag. "Why," Bobby asked quickly, "What's up?"

"Well," she said, "The house isn't very safe right now. So my mom's boyfriend is sending me to stay in the Detroit Marriott at the Renaissance Center. It's some ritzy hotel by the river." Jack nodded and pursed his lips as if impressed. Pelle rubbed her fingertips on her scalp as if to scratch her head and let her eyes wonder around. Ruffles came running to the door and made a few attempts to crawl up Pelle's leg. She bent down and picked the dog up, holding onto him like a fussing child. "So," she continued, "Do you think you can help me?"

Jack nodded and stepped out of the door and ventured over to Pelle's house. She followed a ways behind him, taking her time in reluctance to leave this place. "How long," Bobby had come up to walk beside her. She looked up at his massive form and illuminated face and raised a questioning eyebrow. "How long are you planning on staying there?" She looked back in front of her and shrugged her shoulders, pacing down the short strip of sidewalk in between the two houses. He reached over and wrapped his hand arm her arm stern enough to make her stop but gentle enough to refrain from being threatening. "Pelle," he said, his voice softer than she thought it could ever be.

"Hm," she said looking up at him with her eyebrows raised in response. A short distance away, children could be heard, playing for the last few minutes before they had to go home. Bobby looked off in their direction and when he looked back his eyes held an emotion that she couldn't quite decipher. He stared down at her for what felt like a month's worth of silver winter nights. Jack came out of her house carrying two bags that appeared to be messily stuffed full of clothes and shoes. He had also brought her purse and her phone, thankfully.

"I packed your phone charger too," he said, "And I added our number to your contacts, call if you need anything." She nodded her head at Jack's words but kept her eye on Bobby until he looked towards his brother. Pelle turned to Jack and took hold of one of the bags, with the dog still in her other arm. Bobby stepped in and took the bag from her, carrying it off towards the cab. Jack, looking at Pelle, shrugged and smiled before following suit. They packed the bags into the back seat of the cab and turned to bid Pelle goodbye for now.

"I'll call," she said, "When I need help, or when I get bored, which will probably be soon." They all exchanged smiles and she ducked into the cab. Once again Bobby closed the door before she could reach to do it. She rolled down the window. "Do me a favor," she stuck the dog out of the window and Jack grabbed hold of him, "No dogs allowed in the hotel. Can you look after him for now?" Jack nodded, smiling down at the little dog, and walked back up to the house. It was Bobby who stayed outside of the cab and waited for the driver to pull off. As the cab turned the corner a far ways down the street, he turned and walked back up into the house.

The ride to the hotel was about forty-five minutes long, and agonizingly dull. But Pelle was amazed at the difference between the two neighborhoods. In fact, she felt a bit out of place as she stepped out of the cab in front of the huge, shining hotel. It towered up above her and sparkled in the night's sky, its lights almost reflecting that of the bright stars above. The moon had risen up over the horizon across the river and glimmered against the ice of it. Two uniformed men came out and retrieved her bags from the back of the cab. Pelle handed the driver his fare and a little extra for being nice and waiting for her. He wished her a happy stay and drove off into the shimmering lights of the city at night.

She paced up to and through the entrance to the lobby completely unprepared to feast her eyes. It was one of the nicest places she'd ever been to; it was almost _too_ elegant for her to believe. Yet, sure enough, when she gave the woman behind the desk her name, she immediately handed Pelle the key to the elevator and her room. The men with her bags followed her onto the elevator and instructed her on how to use the key. The elevator took them all the way up to one of the highest floors and the doors opened up to reveal three doors. All of them had numbers that matched the one on her key. Pelle rushed to unlock the door and open it with caution, as if this would dissipate into nothing. The door opened to a picture perfect view of a dining area and large windows looking out over the illuminated river, the moon just in sight.

She stepped further into the suite, past the large, golden mirror that hung again the wall to her left, with a table that held a pant and a lamp in front of it. There was a kitchen to her left, with a refrigerator and a bedroom just past that. She could tell that the bedroom was draped in hues of gold and white. There was another dining area and a seating are and, to her left another bedroom. "What could have possibly expected me to do with all of this space," she pondered aloud as the two men left the room. She was shut into a deep silence, filled with only the luxurious atmosphere of the suite.

Bobby sat upstairs on the side of his bed and lingered in deep thought. He felt so helpless, unable to keep this girl off of his mind. They barely even knew each other, but so far she didn't seem like most of the other women he had ever come across. He shook his head and rubbed the palm of his hand back and forth across his scalp. For a brief moment, the thought of taking off danced across his skin, leaving behind the tingling urge to pack his bags and wing it in his car. He stood to his feet and grabbed his large, travel bag, sitting it down next to his bed, just in case. Bobby removed his shirt and climbed onto his bed, laying his head on his pillow. The faded brown of the bag against the hardwood floor called to him. No matter which way he turned, he felt the pull of the open road.

Sleep did not come to him easily this night and, when it finally did, it was filled with dreams of beaches and mountains. Sometimes the faces of his family popped into his head, almost stirring him awake. When he awoke to the dim, blue light of the early morning sky shining into his room, he couldn't take it anymore. He jumped up, hastily got dressed, and packed enough clothes for the next week. He snuck down the staircase and posted a note on the door as he closed it behind him. His car purred to life, calling to his wander some heart. He cruised off down the road with a vague idea of where he wanted to go.


	6. Chapter 6

The Come Back

Chapter Six

Pelle woke up late in the morning the next day. She'd looked over at the electronic clock beside her bed and her eyes had widened in surprise. How had it grown to be that late? She sat up in bed and pushed to the side the covers that she hadn't recalled placing over herself. She stepped out of bed and onto the soft carpet. She went straight into the bathroom and used the hotel supplied towels and soaps to take a shower. Their shower head sprayed out a wimpy stream of hot water, it disappointed her a bit but only temporarily. She used their shampoo to wash the hospital smell out of her hair and took some time to shave.

The shower had lasted longer than she thought it had, her bedside clock attested to the thirty minute time gap. She dried off, got dressed and went to finish her morning routine. When she was clean and fully awake, she stepped out of her bedroom wearing a small t-shirt and a pair of the boxers that she'd bought for herself. They were comfortable, with their blue and sunset-orange plaid, and they served well as sit-around-eating-cereal-and-watching-television shorts. She sat on the soft, red couch and flipped through all ___ thousand of the channels that the hotel was offering her. She settled for an Oxygen Broadcasting of Pride and Prejudice.

Pelle leaned forward to the short table and sat down the remote, picking up her cell phone in turn. She had three missed calls and her battery was half charged so she had enough energy to check the calls. They were all from her mother, and they had all come in at around 3 am. She called her back, only to hear her mom's grainy voicemail recording, instead of a ring. No worries, she usually didn't pick up but always managed to call back. She stood back up, dropping her phone onto the couch and pacing back into her room. She put on some much warmer clothing and went back out, grabbing her phone, room keys, and purse, and headed out to the elevator.

The ride down in the gold and red elevator was made her head spin and by the time she got to the lobby level, she had momentarily lost her sense of direction. She stumbled over to the front desk and shook her head in an attempt to shake off the dizziness. "Yes, good morning," she said in a polite mumble, "Is there some way for me to get a ride from here to a certain neighborhood? I need one that will be here soon and will wait for me?" The woman shrugged and dialed a few numbers before hanging up the phone and looking at Pelle.

The woman ran her fierce blue eyes over Pelle's deep colored skin, her big, mild curls, her humble nose, and her gentle eyes, half closed from being light-headed. "Y-yes," the woman said, her smile growing as she spoke, "There is a driver that we can get for you, it has been approved by your sponsor." Pelle smiled as the woman, different from the one who had been there the previous night, pointed her to the pickup point, just outside the lobby doors. As the woman talked, Pelle compared her to the other one; she was younger, and, judging by the way she had observed Pelle so closely, she figured the girl was from a smaller town or city. She had seemed to be comparing Pelle to a specific king of person that she had probably only ever been around before she'd come to Detroit. Pelle smiled and, seeing her ride pull up, she strode out of the lobby and climbed into the car, giving the man an address.

This time, Pelle watched a cartoon on her phone to pass the time of the ride and it worked. In, what felt like, a matter of short minutes, the car a pulled in front of her house that she had left behind the night before. She opened her own door and stepped out of the car to find that the renovations on the house had already begun. She was impressed; at this rate she would be able to move back in by the end of the month, which lingered a mere two weeks away. A smile spread across her face when she realized that spring was on its way, it would be warm again. She moved up the staircase and got as close to the work site as she felt was safe. One of the men who wore a different colored hard hat stepped over to her and asked for identification. She flashed him the keys to the house and he nodded. "How's it going," she asked, not meaning to disrupt their work.

"Well," he began, "The _repair_ is going great, but we haven't even started on the remodeling." She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the word 'remodeling' and the man did not fail to notice. He informed her that they had been instructed to completely restore the house, repaint the inside _and_ outside, and to add two more bedrooms and two more bathrooms to the house, adding on a completely new floor. She was surprised at this news; what did they even need all of that room for? She nodded, thanking the man for letting her know and complimenting their work so far. She stepped back towards the gate, keeping her eyes on the men the whole time. Pelle had failed, at first glance, to notice that they had already removed the ratty, old roof of the house and building a wooden frame.

"Hey," it was a friendly voice that she just barely knew enough to recognize. Pelle looked over to her left to see, standing in the yard of Jack's house, the woman who had spoken to her before. She had a few plastic grocery bags in her hands and looked like she had more in the car. "Why don't you come on inside, Pelle? It'd be nice to sit down and talk with you some more."Pelle smiled and walked over to their yard, stopping for a moment on the way to pick up a couple of bags. "Guess who I brought, boys." They all made curious sounds in unison and Pelle could hear them as she walked up the slush covered stairs and into the front room, whipping her feet. The heat from the house embraced her like a blanket fresh out of the dryer. She sighed blissfully and stepped into the foyer and straight towards the kitchen. Jack was there, and he turned and smiled the smile of a baby at her.

"Hey Jack," she said as he came forward to hug her, "How's it going?" He smiled at her, pulling back from the embrace, and informed her that his going was good. Jeremiah came in from the dining room and kissed the woman on the lips. He was closely followed by Bobby, who looked Pelle up and down smugly, tilting his head backwards in greeting. She smiled at him and looked back to the woman, who was now, expertly stocking her groceries. Pelle sat the bag that she had grabbed on the counter and passed its contents off to the woman for her to put away, being that she didn't know her way around their kitchen.

"So, Pelle," the woman said, "My name is Camille, and I would love to know what the heck they are doin' over at that house of yours." Pelle smiled at the Camille as she passed her a jar of smooth peanut butter. She explained the entire from 'repair to remodel' story that the man had given her on the lawn of her house. Camille shook her head and made a face that was almost like a grimace, but a little bit like a smirk. "How long do they expect you to be out of your home?"

Pelle shrugged, "I honestly don't know, but it will take quite some time." She crumbled up the bags and handed them off to be stored. "Anyways, I can't really complain. My temporary housing is lonely but extravagant. If I didn't know that he owned the hotel, I would feel bad." Pelle had placed one arm onto the counter and, as the other one hung down at her side, she felt a hand slide into her free hand. She looked back to see that it was Bobby, standing there and staring down at her with an expression that held some fear in it and a question, deep behind the shadow of his eyes. He lightly tugged her towards the back door and out onto their patio, closing the door behind them.


	7. Chapter 7

The Come Back

Chapter Seven

Pelle wrapped her arms tightly around herself to shield her from the chilly wind that swept across the surface of the city. She looked out over their snow covered yard and tried to ignore the tension between her and the man that stood across from her. They were both unsure of exactly what he was going to say, but only Bobby knew the general idea of it. He crossed his massive arms across his chest and tilted his head at the girl who seemed to be ignoring his presence, making him even more uneasy. But he'd already set things in motion, he couldn't stop now without coming off the wrong way. "Look," he spoke up over the sound of construction next door and the whistle of the winter wind.

She turned to look at him, forcing her face to be solemn and blank as to hide the waves of nervousness that rocked her. Bobby looked as if he was going to say something but closed his mouth and turned back to face the door, shuffling his feet. Pelle was getting a bit confused; what was he doing? He cleared his throat, emitting a strange, high pitched noise at which Pelle could not help but giggle. He looked at her with wide eyes before, slowly, stepping closer to her. "Listen," he spoke again, "I'm not exactly the best at doing this but, here goes. I think you're a pretty cool girl and I would like to hang out with you………………alone, sometime."

Pelle's eyes widened in reply; had he just……asked her out? She raised one eyebrow and he returned the gesture. "Um," she began in reply, "That sounds……good. Just let me know when, I guess." A smile spread across his face, more-so to one side, as if smiling made him a bit uncomfortable. He nodded his head slightly and Pelle looked away from him again. She'd already begun to regret saying yes and dreaded what she was going to do. She turned, stiffly, and ventured back into the house with hesitance almost evident in her eyes. Everyone stood, staring at her as she stepped back inside, their eyes only leaving her to ponder the expression on Bobby's face as he stepped back into the warmth of the house. "I think I have to go," she said and everyone else groaned in disappointment, "I don't want to overstay my welcome."

She stepped around Angel and Jeremiah who stood in interference of her path to the front door. Nobody had moved much, except to turn their heads to look at her as she went. Pelle bent down and gave her mother's dog a small pat on the head before easing out of the front door, closing it behind her. She felt a bit disappointed, what with having to leave and go back to her boring, quiet hotel room. The driver looked her over as she slid into the car, her pants slipping easily over the smooth texture of the seats and her black curls clung to it in certain places. He turned to face the road, taking his eyes off of her, and drove off down the street beginning the return trip to the hotel as she strapped on her seat belt.

"What happened," Jack asked as they heard the door click quietly closed behind Pelle. No one had bothered taking their eyes off of Bobby and as she left the room, their expression grew more and more amused. In fact, Jack's question had held a thread of humor that tugged at Bobby's nerves. The women went back into the living room to watch television and the other three men stepped in closer around Bobby, surveying him closely for signs of lying.

Bobby let his eyes wander around the kitchen, no specific area, just anywhere _but_ at his brothers. "Nothin really," he mumbled before finally raising his eyes to look at them. Their glares bared down on him, applying a certain amount of mental pressure to him; he cracked, but not drastically. "I just…..suggested that we chill alone sometime." The others immediately burst into gleeful cheers and looked at each other before coming in and trapping their eldest brother in a group hug that made his stomach turn. "Man, let me go. This ain't no damn lifetime movie. So what, I asked her out; I'm a man, we do that."

Jack raised an observing eyebrow at his brother, backing away enough o look him in the eyes and shake his head. "So what'd she say," he asked unnecessarily because he already had an idea of the answer. Bobby looked at Jack for a moment, not bothering to speak, and then he narrowed his eyes at Jack, turned them into little, dark slits. Jack laughed lightly, letting it trickle out of his throat, through his parted lips and onto the air in deep, rolling waves of sound. Bobby punched Jack in the lower abdomen, cutting his laughter off abruptly, briefly, only to have him fall to the ground and continue his mockery. "Wow," Jack said in between chuckles, wiping his eyes, "So much respect for that girl. Don't be ashamed, man. It's about time. When are you planning on 'chillin' with her exactly? "

Bobby shrugged, realizing that he hadn't thought about that just yet and moved, distracted, over to the cabinet to fish for a cup. He retrieved a cup and rinsed it before taking a large drink of water; that's when it came to him. "I think I'll take her to a hockey game," he said rinsing the glass and putting it away, "Maybe she'll like it." Jack shrugged and left the kitchen in silence, making Bobby feel a bit awkward. "Maybe she won't," he worried to himself; he shook it off and decided that he would simply not think about it. It was just an outing, nothing big or important; nothing to get worked up over. He took a deep breath and clinched his hand where the memory of hers still tingled there, before joining the others.


	8. Chapter 8

The Come Back

Chapter 08

The sound of the phone ringing seemed to echo off somewhere distant on the inside of the ear piece; it gave Pell the strange, strong urge to open it up and see how far in it reached. "Hello," the deep voice reverberated through the phone after only the second ring.

"Hey," she said, having become vaguely familiar with the voice through the late night calls shared between them for the previous four nights. "Um, when are we planning on……hanging out?" There was a long silence in between the question and the answer. He asked her why didn't she come over the next night and explained how there was a hockey game that he'd planned for them to go to. "Sounds good," she replied, "What time?" Again there was a bit of a silent gap, during which Pelle gazed at a passing commercial airplane. It wasn't particularly close to the building but it was close enough for her to get a good look at the bottom of it, with its smooth, white surface.

"Tell ya what," he finally spoke, "I'm gonna come and pick you up from the hotel at about five o'clock. That should be early enough for us to get good seats." They agreed and went on talking about whatever came to mind for the next few hours that led into the night. Pelle glanced up at the clock that hung in clear view in the kitchen and saw that it was 1 a.m. They'd both been consistently reluctant to hang up and go to bed for the other nights, but on this one, they both proved to be too tired to put up much of an argument. "I'll call when I am on my way tomorrow," he informed his voice thick with exhaustion. Pelle was already up and slumping into her bedroom where she'd left the television on and didn't bother turning it off now as she slid into bed with the phone pressed to her ear. "Goodnight," he mumbled through the phone, hanging up without hearing a reply.

She kept the phone pressed her ear as if she could still hear unheard remnants of his voice leaking through her phone. The television played on the cartoon network, the same station that she slept to each night. Every so often, she would wake and peer through heavy eyes out of the window and out onto the display of city lights. Each time she could swear she was back in New Orleans again, being lulled into her dream by the sound of the music from the jazz joint across the street. And in her dreams she could see them again; happy little couples, stumbling across the way after having danced the whole night. Musicians packed up the instruments and counted their money just outside of their cars parked on the curb. Only the sound of the television, occasionally drowning out the imagined music, reminded her of where she really was.

Pelle observed herself one more time in the mirror, chest aching with the anticipation of it all. She'd straightened her hair so that it would fit better under her ear muffs, and now it hung all the way down to her waist. The light blue logo on her tan t-shirt was partially covered up by her hair but the words could still be read. Dark blue skinny jeans and spotted baby-doll flats finished the outfit off; she hadn't bothered bringing a bag with her and had tucked her cell phone and room key into her pocket. She also brought along fifty dollars, just in case she needed it later. And now, as she took her last look in the mirror before going down to the lobby, she felt like she should change. The clothing showed off her well proportioned curves which was something that she was not comfortable with. Instead of changing, she put on a coat over her clothing as an efficient way to stay warm and to conceal herself.

Her cell phone vibrated through her pocket and she nervously reached in and pulled it out, looking down at the screen and seeing who it was. "Hey," she said in answer, "You here?" He was standing in the lobby; she told him she was on her way down and hung up. She made her way out to the gaudy elevator; she was happy to find that, this time, the 70 floor drop was not as nauseating as it had proven to be before. When the elevator finally stopped, her head spun a bit but she regained her composure and stepped out into the lobby. Pelle looked around for him with concerned eyes, wondering if he had decided to leave. She didn't so much see him, more like she saw group of uncomfortable, almost appalled rich people that stood near the place where he waited, out of sight of the elevator.

She paced across the smooth, shiny floor that reflected the almost golden lights that now lit the lobby as the sun went down outside. She peeked around the large pillar that stood on the side of the doors and there he was. He was leaning against the pillar with a hat, a white, long sleeved shirt, dark jeans, and black shoes and gloves. He glanced up for a moment, as he had been doing for the past five minutes, and noticed her as she stepped around into full view. "Damn," he said as he pushed off of the wall and stepped closer to her, "You look good."

Pelle smiled at him, "Thank you, Bobby. So do you." He stepped forward and slid his arms around her waist at a downward angle so that his hands wound up resting on the small of her back. The hug lasted longer than he'd meant it to as he found it difficult to pull himself away from her softness. He could feel the shape of her body even through the coat that she had put on to conceal it; and the warmth of her skin amplified her sultry perfume and her sweet natural scent that lingered just beneath it. He held her tightly against the warm firmness of his body a few moments more and then backed away enough to look her in the eyes. Both of their breathing had quickened and the air between them became a little bit awkward.

"Ready," he asked in a low, raspy voice that could have easily been a whisper. Pelle could only manage to nod her head in the mist of lustful longing that lingered in between them. He let go of her fully and brought one of his hands around to grasp her's; hand in hand they made their way out to his car that waited just outside of the lobby entrance. Its rustic red color glimmered orange where the light of the winter sunset hit it. It was warm on the inside and soft sounds of old rhythm and blues songs flowed easy out of the speakers. Pelle clicked on her seat belt as he put the car in drive and began their commute.

On the way there he told her about how he used to play in the hockey league and how he and his brothers made it a family tradition to go and play at the rink. She smiled over at him, remembering how field hockey on warm summer afternoons was her favorite thing to do with her friends back in New Orleans. "I never really got into ice hockey," she informed him, "I was always a field hockey kind of girl." Bobby raised his eyebrows and glanced over at her in surprise. "Yeah," she said, "I loved playing it during the summer down in New Orleans."

They came to a red light at which the Joe Louis Arena came into view, lighting up the neighborhood around it. It had grown even darker outside and the white lights on the outside of the arena had been turned on, making it so that around the building it was still almost as bright as day. The parking lot was crowded but not packed. Bobby parked his car in a spot that was nearest to the front entrance of the arena and they trekked through the slushy piles that had accumulated from snowfall and car residue. They climbed the long, steep staircases that led up to the doors, passed up the concession stands and entered the actual seating area. Bobby had taken a hold of her hand again and led her all the way down to the row that sat eight rows up from the ice.

The view was perfect and it wasn't as cold as she thought it would be inside; the inside o the arena actually seemed warmer than the outside. "I'll be back," Bobby said, standing up from his seat, "I'm gonna go get some snacks." She stood so that he could scoot past her with no problem and took her seat again as he made his way up the stairs and past the other rows. More and more people began to crowd into the arena and they all brought their own little degree of heat with them to add to the mix. People immediately began to crowd into their row and she got nervous; she didn't want to lose his seat while he was gone. She barely had time to think any further on the matter when a tray of fries appeared in front of her face.

"Can you hold these," he asked through teeth that where clinched onto another tray of fries. Pelle grab a hold of the thin cardboard tray and stood again to let him past her, their chest grazed for a brief moment and sent chills all the way through Pelle. Bobby took his seat and passed a hot dog over to her, "I hope you don't mind sharing a soda, I only got one, but it's a large one." She smiled and nodded her head at him. They ate fast because there were only a few minutes before the game started and, when it did, they spent the next three hours cheering and yelling for the Red Wings. After the game ended, Bobby took her down to meet some of the guys from the team in the locker room. She felt a bit uncomfortable but decided to pretend that they weren't all men.

They didn't stay long; it was 10 pm and getting later fast. Pelle hadn't realized how tired she was until they got out to the car; maybe it was the chill that filled the car. Bobby started the engine and they sat for a while, waiting for the air that blasted out of the vents to become warm. "So," he said, "Did you have fun?" Pelle yawned and nodded her head, trying to force her eyes to stay open just a little while longer. Seeing her tired, he continued to help keep her awake, "So, I was thinking. How about next week we go to the movies?" She looked over at him with half opened eyes and nodded in agreement with his suggestion of another date. Pelle put on her seat belt and leaned to rest her head against the passenger side window. Her hair had begun to curl again but only at the tips and the lights from the stadium filtered in through the window on her side of the car and landed on her face. Bobby smiled over at her and pushed the car into drive, attempting to drive off slowly as not to wake her.

The trip back to the hotel seemed much longer this time, more than likely, because Bobby took the trip in silence. He pulled up to the valley parking entrance and stepped out of the car and around to her side. There were no other cars lined up behind his which made him feel less rushed about getting her into the hotel. "Sir," a young valley said, "Would you like me to take your car?" He stood there waiting for Bobby's keys and had only asked the question when he had gone longer than normal without receiving them. Bobby opened Pelle's door and shook her arm gently, stirring her from her sleep. Her hazy brown eyes peered open and she turned them to look at Bobby.

She unbuckled her seat belt and sleepily emerged from the car; the wind had become chill and constant even through the coat that she had worn tonight. Pelle lifted her tired eyes up and saw that, in the reflection of the lobby doors, Bobby was still walking behind her. "What's wrong," she asked as she stopped and turned to face him. He looked a bit confused at the question and she returned the look of confusion, letting her eyes roam between him and his car that was being driven onto the parking lot. He shrugged and continued through the revolving door and into the illuminated lobby of the hotel. She followed him only moments later and caught up with him just past the main desk. It was warm in the hotel, but not too warm, and the coat that had hidden her figure all night became bit of a weight on her weary shoulders, but she pressed through it as they boarded the gaudy elevator for the 70 floor ascend. Pelle refused to let this elevator ride be awkward, so she spoke first. "Are they doing well on the house?"

He nodded and raised an eyebrow as he turned to face her, "Looks like everything's going smoothly. They finished the framework, now they just gotta fill everything in." He turned his head away from her and a silence closed in around them. "So, is this place really as nice as is seems?" She nodded her head and placed a sleeved concealed hand over her mouth to shield a yawn. He smiled briefly at the cute gesture but it faded from his face before she could see it. They both stood there almost adjacent to one another and looked around the inside of the elevator as if they would see a conversation topic hovering around them. The elevator let out a single chime and Pelle slid her key into the long slot, granting the doors to open. They stepped off of the elevator and into the small hallway area outside of the room that was lit with tan lamps that were mounted on the walls, they were shaped like fans.

She unlocked and opened the door before stepping into the small vestibule that lay just inside of the suite. Pelle listened for the sound of the door closing behind her and didn't hear it until she had gotten into the bedroom and removed the coat. The television turned on and she heard the sound of jingling and movement from the living room. She took off the shoes and blue jeans and replaced them with socks and pajama shorts. Next went her shirt, which she swapped for a camisole and a long jacket to cover her again, at least until he left. When she stepped back into the living room, he had taken off his coat and shoes and relaxed on the couch; the television displayed some late night cartoons. Pelle suddenly felt self conscious but pushed through it and sat next to him on the soft, red couch, tucking herself into a well concealed ball. They watched TV for a while in silence with the exception of an occasional laugh or two. "You tired," he had turned and asked nearly two hours later and well into the morning.

His voice was low and his eyes had become small slits of brown; as Pelle looked over to him she had to think about whether or not he was talking in his sleep. "Are you sleeping here," she asked him; he peered open an eye and looked over at her. The lights and sounds of the television had succeeded in keeping her distracted from the call of sleep so far, but the effort was becoming more and more futile on her part; she was really tired. She blinked and struggled to open her eyes again to find…….[t.b.c.]


	9. Chapter 9

The Come Back

Chapter 9

When she peeked her eyes open again she found Bobby's face a breath from her own. She spoke with wide eyes and a strained voice, "What are you doing?" There was a long moment of heavy, thick silence before he backed away shaking his head; the movement was enough to send a few strands of his hair sliding down into his eyes. The dim, throbbing light of the city shone through the windows and on his face, casting shadows that kept her from being able to decipher exactly what emotion played along those features.

"You can go to bed if you're tired," he said, glancing over at her. Whatever may have been there a moment before was gone and his face was back to the grim blankness. She stood, wobbling for a moment and paced silently into the bedroom, closing the door to a small crack so a slither of flickering light from the tv could filter in. Her dark hair had curled again, the frizzy little baby curls that got her bullied in elementary school, but praised by the adults. A sigh escaped her lips as she pushed it back away from her face, hand getting caught in the loose tangles.

She stood again, pulling back the blankets and sheets; when the pile of covers was peeled away, it made the bed seem shorter, still tall, but shorter. The sound of the door creaking open is what turned her around just as she prepared the ascent into bed. He stood there, eyes wider than she'd even seen and hair frazzled like he'd tried pulling it out. She raised an eyebrow and, finding it easier to avoid questions, he simply walked around to the other side of the bed, stripping away layers of clothes. Shirt, pants socks, undershirt, and he climbed in, turning towards the window. "Too tired to drive home."

"Okay," she said, almost inaudible. Pelle grabbed a hold of the headboard and pulled herself up onto the bed that was almost as tall as she was; even though 4'11 wasn't very tall. She slid down and pulled blankets up over herself. They felt crisp and had obviously been changed while she was away. As she felt herself drifting off to sleep she was stirred awake by movement and turned to see him scooting closer. Before she could speak there was a knock on the door. Short, loud, and urgent sounding; she hurried to answer. In the fog of sleepiness she neglected checking the peephole which could have gotten her in trouble.

"Pelle," and old familiar voice, it was her brother's widow, Leena. Her smile always managed to be contagious, the way it lit up her hazel-green eyes like a child on Christmas morning. She smiled back and stepped to the side letting her in. "I heard you were in town. Its good seeing you." The smile faded around the edges, becoming wistful and almost sad. Pelle flicked on a light so she could see her better. She hadn't aged a day over the last three years since she'd bumped into them at Mardi gras. Her skin was still that radiant, natural tan and as smooth as her own, even though the woman had an easy ten years on her. "You always remind me of Vic."

Pelle couldn't help but feel her face go solemn at the mention of her brother's name. She hadn't made it home for his funeral, but in a fit of hysteria her mom had spilled the facts of his death over the phone. He'd been beaten, and was still alive when they tossed him in the river. He'd been there for a while because he was discolored and wrinkled.

Bobby had slid out of bed and could hear the conversation only because he'd turned off the tv. He couldn't help but frown at what he heard; Vic? Beaten? River? It all sounded too familiar. His eyes wandered around the room and, to his delight he found her purse. There, on top of the dresser and right next to the purse, was her ID. He picked it up and held it to the dim light from the window. What he read tied his insides in a knot: "Pelle A. Sweet" He nearly slammed it back down and got dressed, cursing himself for his stupidity, for his weakness. He should have checked her out first; hell she was probably investigating him for the murder.

"But yeah," he tuned back in to the conversation as he tugged his socks back on, wishing he hadn't left his jacket and shoes out there. "I'll have to thank mom for telling me where you were. I missed you sis. But I gotta get back to the kids. I'll see you later, much love." He peeked through the cracked door and watched the two hug and smile at each other before she disappeared into the hallway. Pelle locked the door and went to flick out the light.

"Leave it on," he said, voice rough, as he rushed in retrieving his shoes and jacket. She looked him over, startled at first and then puzzled.

"I thought you were too tired to drive home," she said. He looked up at her with a glare that weighed a ton and would've if it could've killed. She stepped back as he walked closer, his feet halfway in his shoes; he suddenly seemed tall and menacing. Not knowing exactly how to react to the situation, she simply tried to calm her pulse so she could atleast speak around it throbbing in her neck. "What's wrong?"

"You never told me your name was Sweet," he said. The confusion on her face deepened and he headed towards the door. "It would have been nice to know who I was dealin with. I would've turned your ass away from my mother's house the moment I fuckin saw you."

"What? Why?" She stepped closer, "What's so bad about my name? I don't get it." He'd already opened the door and was rushing into the hallway, seemingly ignoring her and rapidly pressing the elevator button. "It's the presidential suite. You need the key to get back down." He sighed long and heavy and turned back to look at her. Somehow the glare had hardened and yet, somewhere near the core, it softened when his eyes landed on her.

"Your brother," he began, "…….your brother killed my mom. And he almost took Jack too. Don't tell me you didn't know, he was your brother. We're your fuckin neighbors. Shit, now that I think about it, my baby bro almost bled to death on YOUR front lawn." The elevator beeped and he pushed in the key that he'd somehow grabbed from the table without her seeing it. "That's it. I wish I'd known about you before, but I got dumb and didn't bother askin." He grabbed her hand and put the key in it, a rough motion that matched his mood. "I won't make that mistake again." The elevator doors opened and he stepped in, pressing the lobby button and not glancing up once as the doors closed.

She stood there in the hallway, enclosed in all that silence and took a minute to stand and let what'd just happened, what she'd just heard, sink in. He didn't give her a chance to explain, or ask questions or anything. The longer she stood the more the shock faded into an odd, even mixture of anger and grief. She turned, true black curls clinging to her back, and went back to her room, shutting and locking every door she passed behind her.


	10. Chapter 10

The Come Back

Chapter 10

Bobby walked back into his mom's house, the lights were off but the sun was just beginning to rise. Sleep was, apparently, no longer an option for him. He trudged into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee in silence. He did his best not to think because every time he did his mind talked him into feeling betrayed and some else, something low in his chest, made him want to turn back and talk. He poured himself a cup of coffee and tried to drown it all out. "How'd it go," it was Jack, standing in the kitchen doorway with his hair strewn about.

He sat the cup of coffee on the table, "She got a visitor, I heard them talking." He shook his head and fought the urge to pinch himself as his eyes moistened. "She's Sweet's sister. Had his wifey all in the hotel room like it was no biggy." Jack had taken a seat at the table and Angel's large frame hovered in the doorway. He leaned back in his chair, lowering his eyes and shoving back all emotion; he couldn't afford looking weak right now.

"Does she know what happened?" Jack's eyes had filled with concern and Angel was sitting now too. Bobby shrugged, he honestly had no idea how much she knew but she had to know something; right? It was her brother; no way he could have kept that from her. They sat in silence for a while, them unable to think of what to say to help and him unsure of whether or not he could talk without choking up like a weakling. The front door opened and Jeremiah and Camille walked in, looking around.

"Uh oh," Jeremiah spoke in his loud, projecting voice, "What happened now?" Jack and Angel took it upon themselves to fill him in; Bobby just stared out of the nearest window that wasn't pointed towards her house. If he could just ignore everything that reminded him of her, for the rest of his life, he'd be all good. A loud knock sounded on the door, tearing him away from the mesmerizing sight of the morning sun shining on the smooth kitchen floor. Jack got up to answer it and turned back to look at the others, gathered around the table. He locked eyes with Bobby and nodded. Bobby stood and leaned on the counter. Jack opened the door fully and stepped out of the way.

Pelle stormed in with an attitude that matched her name. "What happened to my brother," she asked, to angry to mask the bit of accent she'd picked up from New Orleans, "And don't tell me you don't know." Her eyes began to tear up and she tried her best not to blink so the air would dry the tears. Jack walked back in; taking a seat again, but nobody really took note. Pelle was glaring at Bobby who was staring blankly, coldly, at her and ignoring the fact that the others were staring back and forth between the two like they were watching a game of emotional catch.

"Don't pretend on me," he started, voice cold as he could make it, "He's was your brother. I know you knew something. In fact, why don't you take a fuckin seat and fill US in?" She nodded, pulling the only vacant chair in the room away from the others and sitting down. The chair was tall, and with her feet dangling off of the floor it was hard to seem intimidating. She sat her purse down beside her.

"Fine," she said, "You want me to fill you in. I will. My brother, the Vic that I know, is not a killer. I was five when we almost got caught in a crossfire walking home from school. He insisted my mom send me to live with family in New Orleans. It wasn't the safest place in the world, but in his mind it was better. He had me sent away to protect me. Three years ago, I bumped into him at Mardi gras. He recognized me, not the other way around." She sighed and took a breath; all that constant speaking, and frantic, had made her light headed. Too light headed to really be angry, this made way for the sadness. "That was the last I saw of him. So whatever Vic YOU knew was not the one that I knew. So now it's time for you to fill ME in. Get talking……….Mister."

Okay the last part had managed to be cuter coming out of her mouth than it was insulting, but having her be angry still struck Bobby's nerve. "Your brother was a gangster," Jack spoke, "He was a bad guy, who did some shitty things to a lot of people who didn't deserve it." Her eyes remained on Bobby, but she was obviously listening. "He had our mother killed for investigating him. And when he found out we were seeking revenge he tried for us too. Almost got me." Her eyes had turned to Jack by now, and the tears were back. It was Camille who stood from where she'd perched on Jerry's lap and stepped closer.

Pelle shook her head and swallowed past a sob that had begun to claw its way up her throat. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Don't." Camille stopped and Bobby pushed away from the cabinets. "So," she began again, "Who killed him?" They all glanced, quickly, at Bobby and then tried to pretend they hadn't but she saw it and it was enough to drop her jaw. All this time she'd been prancing around with the one person she swore she wouldn't forgive for killing her brother. "Right then," she stood and grabbed her purse, "Thank you, Jack. And I apologize for any pain my brother may have caused you all."

They nodded as she headed for the door. She stopped short in the kitchen doorway and turned to look at the ground near Bobby. "Before you left you said……….not knowing about me, not asking, was a mistake you'd never make again. Well now, standing here realizing that I've been………hanging out with the only person I have ever truly hated, I can honestly say, that that feeling is purely mutual." She glanced up to meet his eyes one more time before turning and walking out of the unlocked front door. On the way back to the car she fumbled through her purse for her phone and dialed her mom's number, making up her mind what she was going to say.

"Mom," she'd been reduced to a tearful whisper by the time she answered, "I'm going back to New Orleans, I never should have come back to begin with." The driver took the hint and drove off for the hotel, pretending not to listen while she told her mom the tearful details in the back seat. The ride back to the hotel went fast, she wasn't paying attention, and when they got there, the help was already waiting with her luggage. They packed it into the trunk of the car silently; Jim had called ahead and told them where to go and what to do. Soon enough they were on the way to the airport and she didn't hesitate getting out of town.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Come Back** Chapter Eleven

(4 months later)

Pelle smiled lightly at her mom and Jim over the brim of her cup. They'd stopped at a small café on their way back into the city and she'd settled for just tea. Her sisters had come home with them this time, just for a little while; they wanted to spend some time with Jim. He and her mom had come to New Orleans from Italy married and glowing with the excitement of it all.

The announcement had been the first thing they blurted out as they burst into Pelle's bedroom at her aunt's humble estate. The eldest sister, Amy, leaned over and tapped Pelle every now and again. She kept wanting her to look at the sights and gawk at the way winter crept out of the city.

It was almost spring now. The snow had melted and the trees wore their buds proudly. The house was finished eight months ahead of schedule. Jim was the first person she'd met who had enough money to pay people to work faster. He shot off another one of his rather corny jokes and they all giggled. She smiled and turned to look out of her window. It was getting dark out and the streetlights were beginning to flicker on. That's when she saw it. The old diner that she'd been stranded at the first night she'd met the Mercers.

They were close to home, and she was totally unprepared for it. Her heart raced in her chest and her eyes must have glazed over because Amy leaned in to ask if she was okay. "I'm fine," Pelle fibbed, "Just nervous to see the house again." Amy nodded and looked satisfied. It was her mother that stared at her with a constant, knowing expression. She flashed her daughter a quick smile before her eyes flicked back to the window and filled with awe.

Pelle followed her mother's gaze as the limo slowed to a stop in front of their house. The old house stood like a tall, extravagant beacon against the melting snow. A large f-u to their poor inner-city neighbors. The construction workers had stacked a whole extra story onto the old second story. It was restored and done in a soft tan that was so close to white that only the remaining patches of snow showed the difference.

They all piled out of the limo, leaving Pelle to slide out last. Stepping out into the old familiar setting she felt like a totally different person. She nodded and smiled at the limo driver as her shut the door behind them and paced around to get back in. He eased off down the street and, with the buzz of the limo engine gone; she could hear the small, short barking.

Her gaze slid over into the Mercers' yard and there, at the edge of the gat closest to her, was Ruffles. She smiled and walked into their own yard to get closer. "Hey, boy," she chirped at him. He fell into a fit of frantic barking and jumping.

"Pelle," came a voice that was only vaguely familiar now. She looked up and stood up quickly after. Camille was standing there on the walkway, just off the staircase that led into their home.

"Hi Camille," she said, "How are you?" Camille walked closer and Pelle worried about how the conversation was going to go. The worry didn't last long though. Even though they hadn't ended on the best of terms, Camille's eyes held no hostility.

"I…we've been fine," she replied. "Its good to see you back."

Pelle nodded. She brought a hand up to tuck some of her straightened hair behind her ear as the silence grew. It'd grown in New Orleans and now it swung to the tops of her thighs when straightened. She kept it straightened now. "Camille," she began, "I'm not sure if its too late, but I want to apologize for the way I left. It wasn't…well, it wasn't right."

Camille held up a hand, "It's fine. No harm done at all. I'm just glad to see you back. You were missed." Something glittered behind her eyes while she said the last but before Pelle could inquire another voice called from up towards the house.

"Pelle," it was Jack this time. His hair had been cut shorter and his skin had lost its winter pale complexion for a slightly tanner one. He was at the gate before he spoke again, "Its good to see you. You here to stay this time?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "And I brought some family with me this time." As if summoned, the middle sister, Rae, came to stand at the top of the long staircase. Pelle glanced back at her briefly and turned back to Jack and Camille. "I have to go. Maybe later we can all catch up."

"Definitely," they both chimed. Jack bent down and picked up Ruffles and passed him over the fence to Pelle. "Here," he spoke, voiced laced with laughter, "Now that he knows you guys are home he'd only bark us into madness."

Pelle smiled and took a firm hold of the squirming dog. "Talk to you guys later," she said. They nodded and she turned around to head up into the house. Before she stepped inside she turned to see them slipping into their own house and closing the door behind them. She sat Ruffles down inside and let him make a run for the kitchen.

Pelle turned to close the door and, on her way, she caught a glimpse of the old car pulling up to the curb in front of the Mercer home. She stood, enthralled for a moment. The taillights shut off and the driver side door opened. She only caught a glimpse of his face, scrunched into its smug lines. He paused in the street, eyes caught by the light shining through the open door in Pelle's house. Pelle shut the door but not before he'd gotten a glimpse of her standing, silhouetted by the soft indoor lights. He shoved his car door closed and shuffled into the house without sparing another glance nextdoor.


	12. Chapter 12

[Note: I am soooo sorry for the space in updates. I will try my best not to let it happen again. I hope you enjoyed 11 and I hope you enjoy all of those to come. Also, warning, there will be some offensive language in this chapter. Please review and give me some feedback. Thank you.] The Come Back Chapter Twelve

Pelle stayed there for a moment, hand pressed to the door, letting herself breathe again. Amy was the one who came and took a gentle hold on her arm. Amy had always been the perky, excitable one. The grip was gentle but she nearly dragged Pelle on a tour of the house. They'd changed a lot. The living room was bigger and done in bright shades of white and gold now, right down to the white shag carpet.

Pelle's bedroom was still on the bottom floor, a door in the middle of the short hallway between the living room and kitchen. It was different now though. They put in shag carpet in a soft tan hue. The walls were done in a nice purple color that looked like it changed according to time of day or temperature. The drapes were as close to gold as they could be without shining but the bed was dressed in a shade that wasn't as modest.

The kitchen and bathrooms were clean and bigger too. They were all done in cheery, light granites and tile. The wood never drifted darker than medium shades. Her sister's bedrooms weren't much different than her own. Amy's done in shades of pink and white. Rae's done in soft greens and a chocolate brown. Their parents had retreated to their room and it was deemed off limits.

Amy retreated to her room for the night and Pelle went to shower. She washed her hair and left it alone to curl this time. She'd put on a t-shirt and stretch pants instead of pajamas, she'd given up on the idea of sleep tonight. She parked herself in front of the TV and stayed there until Ruffles went scratching at the door. It was almost midnight and the house was quiet. She let him out into the back yard and thankfully he'd only had to tinkle. It was quick with less clean up required.

She stood and waited for him to finish and as he trotted back up the stairs she caught a glimpse of movement next-door. She glanced up and saw Bobby standing there. He looked like he'd turned to go back inside. Now he'd turned to look at her. His eyes were squinted so that nothing could be read in them and his face was twisted into somewhat menacing lines.

Pelle's own face hadn't been particularly friendly, but it softened after a moment of staring. She turned and opened the door for Ruffles and glanced back at him before slipping inside as well. The little dog curled up on a spot on the living room floor and closed his eyes. Pelle turned off the TV and the lights before shuffling off to her bedroom.

She slid up onto her bed and brought her knees up to her chest. She'd stared blankly at the wall opposite her but it was when she made a move to turn over and attempt sleep that she spotted movement outside of her window. She stood again and ventured out into the dark living room and straight to the door.

Pelle could hear someone shuffling around in the yard as she unlocked the door and again, without looking she opened it. Only this time it meant trouble for her. There was a man standing in the front yard and by the time her eyes made since of him standing there in the dim porch light, he had a rifle pointed at her. She made a move to go back inside. "Don't you fuckin move," he spat, " Shut the door and get your ass out here. You make a sound and I'll paint this pretty little house of yours with your brains, bitch."

She did what he said and stepped closer. He pointed the gun with one arm and used the other in a beckoning gesture. She came within his reach and he darted the arm out and grabbed her by the neck. He squeezed tight enough to make her cough and laughed at her while her eyes watered. "Been waiting for you for a long time," he whispered, he leaned in and licked along her neck, "Leena never told me how pretty you were. Think I'll fuck you some before I finish your ass off."

She went to run but his grip on her neck on tightened enough to make the world spin. He lifted her off of the ground to bring her up to his eye level and shook her some. Her arms went numb and limp momentarily. She was loosing consciousness and the knowledge of that and what he intended to do to her when she awoke made her panic. She began to scream but they only came out as squeezed, strained squeals. He shook her again and this time everything went black.

She lashed out with her legs and kicked him hard in the thigh, just below his man bits. His grip loosened and she got some air. She could see again and had a little feeling in her right arm, and with it she swung it up and clawed him across the eye. He let her go and screamed, stumbling over to the gate. She took a couple of breaths to ease the numbness and then drew one long one.

He saw what she meant to do and came sprinting towards her, limping slightly. It was too late. She let out a scream so loud that it made her ears ring and her throat hurt. She was still numb so the most she could do was crawl away from him but he caught her and locked the barrel of the rifle against the front of her throat with both hands. "Stupid bitch, he cursed, mouth so close that he spit on her face.

He lifted her up and she couldn't breathe for another scream. She hung there kicking and squirming until she was too weak to do much of either and the darkness began swallowing the light again.


	13. Chapter 13

The Come Back

Chapter Thirteen

Bobby had been sitting on the couch in the living room, back to the front window. The struggle outside went under his radar completely for a while. It was the sound of the first scream that made him sit up, grab the shotgun that they kept on the side of the couch, and listen. The second scream was louder and longer and it sounded like it'd come from next door. He moved the curtain in the window and caught a dim glimpse of the guy on the lawn and the girl in his arms.

Jack and Angel came racing down the stares, their own firearms in hand. Jack opened his mouth to speak as Bobby stood and went for the back door. They hurried out and around the side of the house as quietly as they could. Jack sprung over the gate that separated the two houses and they crept onward.

The three men got closer and the girl had gone limp by then. The assailant was laying her in the grass when they slid into view, guns aimed. "Stop right where you are," Angel said, loud and clear, "And drop the gun." The man looked as if he'd try something but put the gun down slowly and began to babble. He was outnumbered.

"Just doin work, man," he said, "You know how it is." The man stood and backed away from the girl who lay still on the ground. Jack moved closer to check on her and froze visibly, shoulders stiff with tension.

"Bobby," he called through clenched teeth.

"Yeah," Bobby answered, gun still pointed, "She alive?"

Jack aimed the gun and backed close enough to the gate to look at his brother and keep the man in his sights as well. "It's Pelle…and she's not breathing. That son of a bitch…he…. he killed her." His voice had grown wrathful at the end of it.

Bobby handed his gun off to Angel. "Cover me," he said and climbed over the top of the fence. He ducked down so he wouldn't get in the way of Jack's aim on the man and stalked closer to the still figure. Pelle lay on a patch of grass, black curls fallen around an almost peaceful face. Bruises had begun to blossom on her neck and her lips had begun to fade blue. He opened his mouth to talk but was disrupted by a scream from up near Pelle's house.

Amy stood screaming franticly on the porch. She'd fallen to her knees and covered her ears, eyes gone blank. She was going into shock. Rae had rushed past her and was kneeling next to her little sister where she lay on the lawn. "I called 911," Camille was there now, just behind Angel, "They're on their way."

Rae had already started CPR on her sister and she kept it going even when the minutes began to pass like years. "Come on," she screamed and kept going.

Amy's sobs became one, long mournful sound and the other neighbors where coming out now. Bobby stood again from where he'd been staring blankly at Pelle's still form. He yanked the gun from Jack and did not hesitate shooting the assailant in the knee. The man screamed and kneeled in a patch of melting snow and Bobby crept closer, followed by his brothers.

Rae blew one last breath into her sister and Pelle released a loud gasping sound. She began to twitch and Rae's face spread into a smile. Amy scrambled closer to them and took hold of one of her sister's hands. Pelle's body's twitched once, then twice, and the twitches escalated into full-blown convulsions. "No," Rae yelled.

The ambulance came screaming around the corner and halted just in front of their home. The paramedics jumped out fast and ran straight to Pelle's convulsing form. One of them, an older woman, pried her eyes open to shine a light in them and the other, a younger male, rubbed her arm with a sterile pad and pulled out the IV needle. As the young man slid the needle into her arm, the older woman was carefully connecting a tube to it. The others spared glances at each other, wondering who'd seen enough and who knew enough to answer all of their questions.


	14. Chapter 14

The Come Back Chapter Fourteen

"Look," Bobby sighed, "Detective Brooks, is it? Yeah, I don't mean to rush y'all but um…could we hurry this fuck fest along?" He'd been sitting in the room for what must have been hours now.

"No worries, Mr. Mercer," Detective Brooks said, "We're almost done." Detective Brooks, Brooks for short, was a shorter man. He was bulky though, like he'd built up muscle to compensate for his height, or lack thereof. He had dark brown hair and a Yosemite Sam mustache. His hairline was receding and his eyes were outlined with dark circles. He looked tired, and by the time he'd gotten to interrogate Bobby, he sounded tired too. "We just need to know who shot the man in the knee."

Bobby shrugged, "I already told you, I dropped my gun to rush to Ms. Sweet and it went off." He shifted in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Must've clipped him in the knee."

Brooks nodded and jotted something down in the small, tattered notebook he'd carried all day long. The paramedics had stopped Pelle's convulsing and they rushed her off right after that. The people had come and taken the man in, but not until after they almost arrest Bobby instead. Guess it would make since to go for the guy with the gun instead of the one who'd been shot. He'd been so busy watching the ambulance until it drove out of sight to realize he still had it.

"Alrighty," Brooks chimed, "We're finished here. But don't leave town, Mr. Mercer. We're gonna look into this more." He stood and reached a hand out to Bobby but Bobby stood and left the room with an irritated grunt. Angel, Jeremiah, Jack, Sophie, and Camille were waiting in the hall.

"Let's go," Bobby said as Jack handed him his coat. He didn't miss a beat heading out of the door and straight for the van. Jeremiah had driven it over so they could all fit in one car. "Hurry up, Jerry, damn."

They all piled in silently at first but while they pulled out of the parking lot the questions began. "Anybody heard anything yet," Jack asked.

"No, Jack," Jeremiah answered, "We've been locked in a room all morning, same as you."

"What did you guys see," Camille raised. They all went through their own versions before they all met up on the lawn. Jack had heard the first scream, same as Bobby. Camille and Jeremiah had stirred Angel up just before the first scream. Camille had woken Jeremiah. And Camille herself had been reading when she heard him tell Pelle to come out of the house.

"I should have paid more attention," Bobby spoke lowly, "She let the dog out into the yard out back before all of this. I was out getting some air. We locked eyes, maybe she was tryin to say somethin."

"I doubt she knew," Sophie said, "Or she'd have called the cops and stayed inside." They all nodded and the silence returned. This time it hummed with the turning thoughts of everyone in the car.

The air cleared as the hospital came into view. Jeremiah found a parking spot on the street right next to the ER entrance. They spilled out but Bobby went first and waited on nobody. They all had to jog to catch up with him as he strode through the automatic doors. Camille ran ahead to the desk. "Pelle Sweet."

"Straight through the doors," the nurse attending it said, "All the way down til you're almost at the end and then make a right. All the way down again and straight to the right. Room 213. You may need to stay in the waiting room, she brought others with her and the police are there."

Camille nodded gratefully and led the way. They made it all the way to the hall where the room was when someone called out to them from a waiting room. They all turned to find Rae there. "They told us to wait in here until the police are done with questions."

"She awake," Jack asked.

Rae nodded and Amy came to stand next to her. "They thought she'd had brain damage from lack of oxygen. It turns out the convulsions were just her brain's reaction to the sudden restoration of oxygen flow." Rae had the tendency to fall into medical babble that few other people actually understood. They all nodded and smiled but in actuality, she'd lost them.

The officers ducked out of two rooms just a little bit down the hall. Camille walked past them and looked at the room numbers. She pointed at 213 and waved the others over. They all came close and peered into the room. Pelle lay in bed with her mom buzzing around her. "I'm alright, mom," she was saying, "Really I am. Just a sore throat and a headache. You need to sit down before you overexcite yourself."

Her mom stopped and nodded before sulking off to a chair in the corner. Pelle tucked her knees up to her chest and Amy and Rae slipped into the room. Amy slid onto the bed and curled up at her sister's feet. "You're friends are here," Rae informed her and went to comfort their frantic mother.

Pelle turned her eyes to the door. Everyone waved awkwardly, still squeezed into the view frame of the small doorway. She waved them in and Jack came in first, joining Amy on the bed and taking one of Pelle's hands. "I don't think I've ever been this happy to see someone awake in my whole fuckin life."

She smiled and squeezed Jack's hand lightly, turning out to look at all of the others. She took a moment before speaking again; her voice had been failing her ever since she'd woken up. " Thank you guys," she spoke a little clearer this time. It was encouraging.

"What the hell are you doing thanking us," Bobby spoke now and stepped to the front of the small mob, "Its not like we were just gonna let it happen less than twenty feet from us." He stood at the foot of the bed and stared down at her. She sat near the headboard and stared up at him. The air between the two was tense and heavy with unsaid words.

Camille came forward and ushered everyone, but Bobby, towards the door. "I think it'd be best if we gave them some time alone." The others left without protest, gazes lingering between the two. They all left out but Jack and Amy stayed at the door, ears pressed to its surface. Eavesdropping never killed anyone…did it?


	15. Chapter 15

The Come BackChapter Fifteen

All the noise in the world dimmed down as Camille closed the door to Pelle's hospital room. The television, from where it rested on the wall a mere five feet away, was nearly mute. The only thing that still rang clear and near was the thudding of their heartbeats in their ears. Pelle tucked her knees in close to her chest and buried her face in the small space it left. Bobby looked around as if there would be some idea of what to say crawling up the walls.

Jack and Amy twisted impatiently where they stood eavesdropping at the door. "Why don't they say something," Amy asked in exasperation. Jack shushed her softly.

"I'm sorry," Pelle said, bringing her face back up. Her voice had gone again, hoarse now and painful in her throat. Bobby turned his gaze back to her. "If I had known that you were connected to Victor, especially in the way that you were, I'd have mentioned it. But we barely knew each other and I didn't want to go on babbling about family trees."

He stepped around to the other side of the room and pulled the chair that Pelle's mom had been seated in closer to the bed. With him in the chair and her on the bed they were almost eye-to-eye. It was a testament to his height and to her height deficiency. She brought her face up again and turned to look at him. He carefully avoided eye contact and she let the strange silence linger on as long as he wanted it to.

"How'd you and those women out there end up related to that little fuck," he asked, eyes still focused elsewhere.

"I'd explain," she said, "But I'd really rather not delve into the details of my mom's sexual escapades." He smiled briefly, wiping it off of his face as quickly as he could. "He wasn't always bad. Just, without dad there, he felt like he had to be the man and he did it the only way he knew how. He did it the way Uncle taught him to. But he did start out doing it for us."

Bobby nodded and shifted slightly in his chair. He didn't look at her but his gaze crept a little bit closer to the bed were she settled. He cleared his throat softly and then, "Me too…you know?" He sighed and brought a hand up to his mouth but placed it back onto the arm of the chair. "I'm, um…I'm sorry and stuff."

"You don't really have anything to be sorry for," she said, and this brought his gaze up to her face, "From the sounds of things he was way too far gone. I mean if Leena is that deep into it I don't want to know how lost he was. He changed, no matter the reason, into something that held no thread of who he used to be. He was only my brother by blood and name. Everything else was gone."

Bobby reached in and grabbed her hand from where it had clenched its alternate clone in an attempt to hold her legs and body closer together. It wasn't a forceful touch; in fact, in was almost hesitant, as if he expected her to yank away. Outside of the door, Sophie joined into the eavesdropping party at the door. "What happened then, happened then," he said, "And on some real ish, I like you. I like you a lot. And I'd be glad to leave that where it lays and go back to gettin' to know you."

She nodded and rested her cheek on her knees. "I'd like that too."

He stood from his chair and sat on the bed. He was tall enough not to need to do any climbing. Pelle went to scoot over and make more room but he had an arm wrapped around her to stop the movement before she could even finish it. She turned a puzzled gaze to him and found his face easing closer to her own. He kissed her; a soft brush of the lips that left a warm, tingling feeling after the contact was broken. It was meant to be an innocent gesture but between the longing look in her eyes and the feel of his warm, muscled arm pressing in around her, only the thin hospital gown there to keep their skin separate, it developed into more.

He came in for another and she met him half way this time. They trapped each other's mouths in a lustful, almost frantic, fusion. His arm tightened and pulled her closer, closing the small gap that had divided their bodies. She brought a hand up and placed it against his chest for extra leverage not provided by the one that pressed into the bed to keep her from giving in to the unexpected urge to fall back and pull him with her.

She broke the kiss, and with much effort. They sat for a few moments, eyes closed, breaths coming in shuddering waves. "Sorry," he said. She smiled and nodded, still not trusting her mouth just yet. When they finally got the nerve to scoot away from each other again Bobby frowned and reached for a rubber band ball that rested on the table near the bed. Pelle's mother had been anxiously adding rubber bands to it when she'd woken up. He threw it and it bounced off of the door with a thud that was accompanied by a chorus of pained sounds from outside. Thanks to the door enhancing the sound, to the listening ears on the other side, the ball's impact had sounded more like a large-scale explosion.

The door opened and Jack walked in rubbing his ear. "SO how'd it go," he asked.

"You know how it went, you nosy ass fairy," Bobby retorted. Jack laughed and sat at the foot of the bed. The others filed in slowly after him and some of them pulled chairs in from the hallway. The extra chairs proved unnecessary. Pelle's doctor came back.

"Ms. Sweet," Dr. Arnold called as he entered the room. He was an attractive man, tall and broad. His face was chiseled into strong lines and his dazzling gray eyes shone beautiful in contrast to his masculine face. His hair was brown and styled like Clark Kent and his glasses had thin silver frames. He had a soothing voice and a very kind heart. As he entered the room now, he looked around at the significantly large number of visitors she had this time. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you all to leave in order to comply with patient privacy protocol."

They all nodded and stood to migrate back out of the room. Bobby left last and didn't close the door all the way. "Well, Ms. Sweet," he said, "It looks like all is well. You have some deep contusions and it'll probably give you a sore throat for a week or so but other than that all seems well. You also may experience some headaches." He made a quick scribble on a piece of paper and tore if off to hand it to her. "Here's a prescription for Acetaminophen, about a week's worth. Take it according to the bottle please. And here-" he handed her a small business card "Here is my office contact. Call if you experience any more trouble."

She nodded and thanked him and he only replied with a kind smile before he turned to leave. Pelle'd expected everyone to pour back in but nobody came back and after a few minutes her mom peeked her head in. "Hey," she said, "They said you're discharged." Pelle nodded and ran a hand through her hair, still curled up around her face. "Just go on and get dressed. We'll wait for you out here. I called Jim and told him to send the car."

"Okay," she said, "Thanks." Her mom never replied, just left and shut the door behind her, leaving Pelle alone to dress and meet them out in the hallway. When she got out there, her mother and sisters were the only ones still there.


End file.
